Shot down like a bullet

Shot down like a bullet.   There’s a girl in my shower two nights in a row now. She’s got great  big tits and she keeps screaming my name. Like a did something wrong. Every night she shoots me down like a bullet.   I wish I could get you out of here. I wish…

A Mug full of Muggling

The ticket stabber Wants to Make Friends.   Sitting swimming Mouths open, taking Starving Chirping for chips. Stuff your fucking mouths. There’s a mortal moment, everyone will know very intimately, whether it was worth it.   This shift is turning into a hostage crisis. We’re all going to die. I’m a shitty negotiator.    

The Unlucky

The Unlucky are discovered. Just in time. They do not go gentle into any night, or morning or day. Their bodies are covered. With hospital blankets and unpayable bills. All of you, the doctors will eventually get you. Then it’s ICU beds and hoses and waiting rooms. Loss of life, ahhhh, but first. Loss of…

The Dream

I dreamed I was on a dark stage, dancing to leilet hob And I woke up choking. Then the dream became a basement concert We were listening to Nick Cave. He crawled over the heads of the audience and right up the stairs I tried to follow, but spiders rained down on me and covered…

The Hostess Stand Stanzas

That smiling face… whether you deign to speak at it or not, there’s a thousand razor-sharp barbs behind those little teeth. Those dull little eyes hold a vocabulary that would surprise. Oh, shit, she’s capable of more than a, “Table for two?” Her mind wanders as your eyes rove- oh she’s got an opinion of…

Molly Malone

Molly Malone grew up in La Grange. She was a young lovely girl raised free-range. Until she was seventeen, and three men came to the farm at La Grange. But she felt no alarm even as they took away Dad and dear old Mom. Oh, and she did sing, Oh her voice did ring, Molly…

surrounded by Men

Piece of incredibly short writing that didn’t make the finals of a contest. Hope you enjoy it, or don’t, more than they did. I thought it was rather clever.   Everyone dies in the blink of an eye. My mother died in a typical way. The method of murder, you see, was me.

Please burn this Sweater

I met you at an ugly Christmas sweater party You wore a black dress in protest, I don’t recall what I wore at all. But I’m not cool enough to protest Christmas I bet youre the kind who leaves their christmas lights up Hey you, do you? Some people think that’s lazy But I prefer…

Title

Whisper my name When you don’t want to be heard By the table one more over When my name’s the only word You can think of, lover. Speak my name aloud When you need my answer on the phone When you’re no longer afraid When you don’t want to be alone. After all it’s only…

Flooded

I am not the writer I am the words Words like ganglion And abnegate And mustang I am the words Lovely as spillage from overwrought syllables Whatever dialectical crime you might commit Caress me I am the words Poetry essays short stories novels Color sound taste and texture I’ll tell you about these things No,…

1003 Thoughts

Last in a series. It’s been a long year and we’ve all heard a lot of things we could’ve done without. Some times they come crashing down on you when you least expect it and you’re left scrambling, trying to figure out where scribble it down so you don’t forget. Sometimes the only place to…

1002 Thoughts

I couldn’t decide where the line between the poems written on the program were so I just divvied them up later.   Here’s one, or hell, maybe two:   “There are two different poems here,” I reflected. “But I’m not sure which is which and what the other one is all about.” Approach the ranks…